


Start of nothing

by Mymlen



Series: Start of nothing [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Antagonism, Hate Sex, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Sectumsempra, Unhealthy Relationships, boys pulled into war, harry and draco don't deal with any of their problems, reimagining Harry's 5th and 6th year at hogwarts, the tipping point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mymlen/pseuds/Mymlen
Summary: In the wake of Cedric's death, the wizarding world has lost most of its appeal as Harry's place of happiness. His friends are keeping secrets from him, the media and everyone else thinks he's crazy, he has a hearing at the Ministry and is feeling all the powerlessness of facing a corrupt government. Even Hogwarts is being warped by Umbridge and the Ministry, and on top of everything there is Malfoy, with all his childish spite and apparent inability to leave Harry alone.





	Start of nothing

It’s the summer before Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts, the summer after Cedric’s death. Those endless, dry months where Harry hears nothing from any of his friends, he’s trapped at Privet Drive with the Dursleys and he can’t even dream about returning to Hogwarts, because suddenly that world has become dark and broken too, and he is so angry, even angrier when he finally arrives at Grimmauld Place and finds out what has been kept from him, that it was kept from him on purpose on Dumbledore’s orders, that Ron and Hermione helped keep him in the dark, and they have been there together for months without him. And on top of everything he has a hearing at the ministry and is feeling all the powerlessness of facing a corrupt government that, just like the rest of the wizarding world, has gone from hailing him as a hero to treating him like an attention seeking child.

And when he finally does return to Hogwarts, even that is warped by the Ministry and the sadistic whims of Umbridge, so everything continues to be awful, he continues to feel isolated from Ron and Hermione and everyone thinks he’s crazy.

And at Hogwarts is Malfoy, who knows perfectly well that Harry isn’t crazy because his summer has been terrible too, though in other ways than Harry’s. He hasn’t been kept from anything, he is already hearing and seeing too much of what his parents have gotten into, the first Death Eaters frequenting his house, and where Harry’s wake-up call from childhood was Cedric’s death, Draco’s is seeing his parents scared and realizing that they are not as all-powerful as he has been allowed to believe for so long. Now he constantly overhears Lucius and Narcissa fighting, because things are different this time, Lucius’ high position with the ministry is useful to the dark lord, but he is also traitorous for having achieved it in his absence. Bellatrix is out of Azkaban, Draco has never met her, he doesn’t know what she is yet, only that she is his mother’s sister and that his parents are afraid of her.

And Draco hates Harry because he’s fifteen and that itch, that stupid want and waiting that he hasn’t recognized as anything but bitter hatred before, that itch is rearing its head and he is having dreams too, ugly, dark and shameful dreams, so he milks Harry’s anger for all it’s worth, tormenting him with his craziness. He would rather believe the Dark Lord hasn’t risen anyway.

And then one day he gets him alone and Draco pushes Harry too far. He finally finds that limit he has been searching for, and when Harry snaps, he hits, because this is too personal for wands. And they fight, Draco is terrible at fighting, but he tries, because he is angry too and he has been wanting to punch someone for months. Maybe if it had been an even fight it wouldn’t have happened the way it did, but Harry pushes him down and is over him in no time, and no matter how angry he is, he can’t beat someone up once they’re down and helpless, so there are only punches as long as Draco struggles and Draco is running out of energy, they’re both out of breath and then Draco has another surge of desperate strength when he realizes what the press of Harry’s body and the sound of his short breaths has done to him, and he scrambles to get away before Harry notices. And then they both freeze. There is that second: did he notice? Does he know that I know? Because Draco isn’t the only one who’s gotten hard. He catches Harry’s eyes, sees the shock and shame and god, that is such a turn on, and he pushes up against him, wanting Harry to feel it. Harry doesn’t move, his chest rises and falls, he still doesn’t move. Draco reaches up and pulls him in. Harry doesn’t kiss him back, but it feels right somehow, that Draco’s violent desire is met by Harry’s limp, unmoving body, Draco’s tongue pushing into his slack mouth as he pushes himself into a sitting position, Harry still straddling his lap, Draco has one hand on the floor for balance, the other one is buried in Harrys hair. Then he shifts, shifting Harry with him and reaches for Harry’s pants, unbuckling them and despite Harry’s apathetic response, he is still hard as fuck and he still moans into Draco’s ear and clings to Draco’s robe as Draco jerks him off.

Harry comes and they only take a couple of seconds to catch their breaths before they disentangle from each other and Harry leaves. Draco takes a bit longer, needing a moment to steady himself, his dick still hard, his heart still beating, his fingers sticky with Potter’s come. He stays alone in the classroom and gets himself off before he leaves.

Draco doesn’t expect it to ever happen again, but he knows he’ll probably be wanking to the memory for the next ten years of his life. He casts a silencing charm on his bed that night and comes way too fast.

- 

At first all Harry feels is shame. He can’t look at Ron or Hermione or any of the other Gryffindors for the entire next day – no one notices, he’s been angry all year anyway. He can’t stop looking for Draco either, whenever they’re in the same room – in class or in the great hall – he can’t seem to relax until he has spotted him. Draco catches him looking a couple of times and smirks.

-

The second time it happens is in the quidditch changing rooms. Harry has been out flying and when he comes back, Draco is there getting changed, about to go out. For a couple of seconds, it’s quiet and awkward, the two of them staring at each other, alone together for the first time since the incident. And then Draco starts saying shit. And Harry pushes him up against the lockers, and maybe he hadn’t meant to kiss him, but he does. Draco tries to lean forward, but every time Harry slams him back against the lockers, and he likes the noise and he likes how it feels like a fight. Then Draco reaches for his pants again and puts a hand on Harry’s chest, and Harry lets himself be pushed gently back so Draco has enough space to get to his knees.

It’s clumsy, Draco hasn’t done it before. It doesn’t matter.

Harry leans forward, hands planted against the lockers, breathing deeply, feeling calm and endorphins wash through his body. Draco is still on his knees, steadying himself with a hand against Harry. Harry listens to his breathing and watches his crouching form, his blonde head, and he doesn’t feel anything except far away from himself.

- 

It happens a lot after that. Always the same way, Draco discretely slipping Harry a note or whispering to him a time and a place for them to meet and Harry crumbling the paper in his pocket or pretending not to hear the whisper. He promises himself he won’t go, but then he watches the clock anxiously as the time draws closer and at the last minute he goes anyway. He hates himself for going, maybe that’s why he’s so rough. He never really knows if he’s going to beat him up or kiss him when it starts. Then at some point Draco will get on his knees and push Harry’s shirt up, open his pants for him (and Harry likes that part way too much). Sometimes he gently kisses the skin on Harry’s stomach and Harry tells him to just get fucking on with it, and he usually does.

Harry hates himself even more afterwards. Maybe that’s why he does it.

 -

The occlumency lessons are over before they’ve begun. There’s no way Harry can allow Snape into his head; he knows he’s skewing the proportions of things, that Voldemort having access to his mind is worse than letting Snape see a handful of random memories. But this is one humiliation he won’t stand for. Not under any circumstances.

Umbridge’s regime becomes imposing, unsettling. Hagrid might get fired. Hermione suggests they start their own defence against the dark arts class, she wants Harry to teach them, and all he can think is that he isn’t a hero.

But they still end up in the Hog’s Head and they all expect him to be something that he isn’t – it was all just dumb luck, it was help from the right people at the right time. Cho is looking at him the whole time and all he can think about is how Cedric died anyway.

-

Harry teaches Dumbledore’s Army and Draco joins the inquisitorial squad. It probably should have ended then but it doesn’t. Draco wears the shiny silver _I_ on his uniform when they meet and for once Harry tries to leave bruises.

When Cho kisses him, Harry has a note from Draco burning in his pocket, and that night he doesn’t go.

He convinces himself that it’s over but two days later he’s in a bathroom stall with his hand curled in Draco’s silky, blond hair. And the day after that, Draco whispers in his ear again.

“Empty classroom in the west wing, fourth floor, tonight.”

“I can’t,” he hisses back. “Detention.”

“Come after.”

 -

It’s the same as always: of course he won’t go. And in the end he does anyway, but he stops by the bathroom first to wrap toilet paper around his stinging, bleeding hand.

Draco is sitting on one of the desks, a book in his lap (how early did he get there?). He doesn’t notice it when Harry comes in, and for a moment Harry watches him and finds that he looks innocent like that. He looks normal, just a 15-year-old boy reading quietly to himself in an empty classroom. He doesn’t actually resemble the corrupt, perverted creature Harry thinks of both of them as when they meet like this. Then Draco raises his head as if he knew Harry was there all along, as if he wanted to let him watch and think himself unnoticed. He doesn’t smile, but he puts the book away.

“What happened to your hand?” he asks.

“Detention with Umbridge.”

The paper is red soaked through already, so he takes it off and throws it in the bin by the door. Draco gets off the table and crosses over to him.

“What does she do to you?”

“Makes me write lines. She has a special quill for it.”

Draco frowns. He picks up Harry’s hand. He looks repulsed. He swallows hard and Harry doesn’t really feel anything, he’s not even angry.

“What did you lie about?”

“Voldemort,” he says, watching Draco carefully.

Maybe he flinches a little bit, but he doesn’t say anything, so Harry pulls his hand back.

“Are we going to do it or what?” he asks.

Draco looks at him with an expression Harry can’t read.

“If you want to.”

“Sure.”

Draco doesn’t kiss him this time. Harry leans his head back and closes his eyes when Draco opens his pants. His hand stings. After a while he tells Draco to stop and they both leave.

That’s the last time.

Shortly after, Harry has the vision of Sirius in the department of mysteries, and none of what happened with Draco changes anything. He panics, gathers his friends, his _army_ as they so stupidly called themselves. Once again, Harry puts his friends in danger, and this time an entirely unnecessary one, this time it is entirely due to his own stupidity. Sirius is killed by Bellatrix Lestrange. Lucius Malfoy is sent to Azkaban.

That summer, Draco takes the dark mark and is given the task of assassinating Dumbledore.

 

- 

 

Another summer passes. Harry, Ron and Hermione follow Draco to Borgin and Burke's. Once again Harry is trying to point out the obvious to people who won't listen. It's really entirely rational of him when he sneaks off to the Slytherin's compartment on the train.

His heart races as he spies on the conversation, everything he already knew being confirmed, getting angrier and angrier with every second he has to stay silent and listen to them. And of course that anger has nothing to do with the way Pansy Parkinson clings to Malfoy. It doesn’t have anything to do with the way they talk about Ginny. Not at all. Last year was an eternity ago; this is about Draco’s suspicious behaviour, his vague bragging and the mark Harry suspects he’ll find on his arm. Harry forgets to stay entirely still, so when his friends leave, Draco stays behind. He curses Harry, breaks his nose and leaves him under the invisibility cloak. That, too, has nothing to do with last year.

-

Draco spends his year trying to get poison and cursed artefacts into the school. He mends the broken vanishing cabinet, he cries alone and quietly in empty bathrooms as he realizes he is not supposed to succeed. He still jerks off to memories of Potter, and he doesn’t even bother to feel bad about it anymore.

Harry spends his year stalking Draco. He tells himself that this obsession is just about Draco being a Death Eater. It's not like he didn't know Draco was evil last year, he was just fifteen and angry back then. It was a way of acting out. He’s falling in love with Ginny and despite her being Ron’s sister and everything that’s complicated about that, he can’t help but relish how easy and good and right it feels. There were times the year before when he thought he might be completely fucked up, that he had to be damaged, disturbed, wrong when he could like Cho and know she liked him back and still hook up with Malfoy between classes. That fear can be safely dismissed now – he’s in love with Ginny, he’s doing everything he can to discover what Malfoy is up to, and to stop him from it.

At least that’s the plan, and then Harry finds Draco crying in a bathroom and everything about that is wrong. Draco throws the first curse, and the fight is about everything that happened the year before and everything that has happened to each of them over the summer and it’s about the war they are both being sucked into and it’s about nothing, until Draco’s chest is sliced open and he collapses onto the waterlogged floor with a splash, his wand falling from his limp hand and blood soaking his clothes and turning the water around him red.

“No–“ Harry gasps, getting to his feet, slipping and staggering, plunging towards Draco, whose face is shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest. Harry falls to his knees beside him, Draco’s shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood, eyes rolling back into his head.

“No, Draco, this wasn’t-“ Harry mutters, not even sure what he’s saying. “No, no…”

His voice doesn’t sound like his own, it’s loud and shrill and terrified. And then Moaning Myrtle lets out a deafening scream:

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

-

Harry watches helplessly as Snape heals him. He waits in the bathroom while Draco is taken to the hospital wing. The water slowly soaks through his shoes.

He lies. He gets rid of the book.

Malfoy doesn’t die. Harry doesn’t go see him. It’s not the sort of thing you can apologize for. He dreams about it quite a lot, though.

Malfoy remains in the hospital wing for two days. Harry can’t help thinking it ought to take longer when you’ve been that close to dying. He also can’t stop staring at Malfoy. He wishes he would make a scene out of it like he did the time Buckbeak scratched him – it would be so nice if he would just go back to being awful so things could stop being so complicated and Harry could simply hate him again.

-

He never planned on talking to him about it. He had contented himself with knowing this was just something he would have to live with – the awareness that he had been that close to killing someone.  So it’s just a coincidence when they run into each other and happen to be in an empty corridor. If they had just kept walking, they could even have made it past that interaction, which Harry realizes only the second after he has stopped and they stand there, staring at each other. Malfoy has dark circles under his eyes, his lips are pressed into a hard, thin line. He isn’t going to say anything, he just watches Harry, while Harry struggles find a single word in the English language that’s less useless than “sorry.” 

“I didn’t know what the spell did,” he says finally.

Malfoy’s expression doesn’t change.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I’m sorry.”

It sounds exactly as dumb as he thought it would.

“I don’t give a fuck, Potter,” Malfoy mutters.

He lowers his head and strides past Harry, and Harry reacts instinctively, grabbing his arm without even realizing what he’s doing until Malfoy stops and glares back at him with pure loathing in his eyes. But he doesn’t try to pull away. Harry opens his mouth to say something else, but nothing comes out.

And then Malfoy kisses him.

Harry had dealt with the memories of the previous year by pretending that none of it had really happened, and since nobody else knew anything about it and he hadn’t talked about it at all, he had reached a point where most of the time he could almost believe it. Or at least he could believe that they were entirely past it, that it didn’t matter anymore. And then Malfoy kisses him, and it’s like a dam in his mind being knocked over, pent up sensory memories flooding him. He had forgotten what Malfoy smelled like. He had forgotten how soft his hair felt. He had forgotten how _good_ it was right when it was happening, before the guilt kicked in, when it was just Malfoy’s hands on his hips and his neck and in his hair, the sound of his breath, the push of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth.

Malfoy pulls back and Harry forgets himself and tries to follow, not wanting to stop quite yet. Malfoy grabs his wrist:

“Come on,” he says, dragging Harry with him into the nearest classroom.

 Harry slumps against the wall, heart thundering, his whole body feels electric, his fingers might be trembling. He watches as Malfoy pulls out his wand and locks the door before turning back to him. Malfoy’s face is flushed. He takes a step toward Harry, Harry leans in but Malfoy shoves him back, his hand flat on Harry’s chest, and about half of Harry’s excitement is pure adrenaline, because they didn’t use to lock the door, that was part of the game, and Harry was always the one who shoved. He can feel Malfoy’s breath on his face. Malfoy is looking down, eyes fixed on the hand on Harry’s chest that keeps him pressed back against the wall. His mouth is slightly open, Harry wants to kiss him again, which is weird now that he is so painfully aware that Draco shouldn’t be attractive. It’s something he’s been trying to focus on all year, looking for everything ugly about Malfoy, all the marks of his desperation; his sleep deprived eyes, hollowing cheeks, sallow skin, as well as the things that were always there; his too narrow, too pointy face, his too long nose, his thin lips. And he’s an awful person, obviously. And once again it doesn’t seem to matter at all. Harry laughs.

“Malfoy, what are we doing-“

“Shut up, Potter,” he mumbles, and kisses him again, slower this time, carefully.

Then fingers close around Harry’s wrist and guides his hand from where it rested against Draco’s hip to the bulge in his pants. Another nervous surge rushes through Harry, for a moment his hand just rests there. Malfoy is still kissing him and for an awful second, the picture of Ron and Hermione imposes itself on Harry’s mind, what they would think if they saw him like this. He pushes it back. It doesn’t matter. He wants to ask if this is somehow payment for the sectumsempra, if this is supposed to be his apology, it would be such a good excuse for why he isn’t leaving, if he could pretend that he owed Draco this, but then it seems too crude a question even for this ugly thing between them. It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch Malfoy. He does, badly. It’s just that he’s never done it before. All those times in fifth year, and Harry never actually touched him. It was always Malfoy at some point getting to his knees. Harry would watch him get himself off too, sometimes, but he never touched him, and Draco never asked him to.

Harry pulls away from the kiss, looking down while he gets Draco’s pants open. He shoves his hand down Draco’s briefs and Draco cries out, soft, and curls forward into Harry’s shoulder, hot breaths gusting over Harry’s neck, and Harry’s heart is pounding like crazy, like it’s trying to smash its way through his chest.

He’s aware that he’s probably doing an incredibly shitty job, but Malfoy doesn’t seem to mind, he gasps the second Harry touches him, he’s ridiculously hard and every time Harry moves his hand to stroke him, he’s rewarded with another soft moan. It doesn’t take long before he comes hard, shaking in Harry’s arms.

Malfoy’s hand is curled tight in Harry’s sweater; he stays leaning against him as he catches his breath. One of Harry’s hands is sticky and hangs limply at his side. He has the other one resting on Malfoy’s back, steadying him. He moves his thumb in small, soothing circles. They never did this either. There was never anything soft about the thing they had, and Harry feels his chest tightening, because it’s over now and he should feel the regret and awfulness creeping in, but it’s nice to have someone holding him and to hold on to them, it’s really nice, even if it’s Malfoy. He knows any second now, Malfoy will push him away and leave so he tries to take as much of it in as he can; the feel of Draco’s robes under his fingers, the flowery scent of Draco’s shampoo, and his own smell underneath that, the heated brush of his exhalations on Harry’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Malfoy laughs, short and dry.

“Fuck you, Potter,” he mumbles, but he still doesn’t leave.

Harry slides his hand down Draco’s arm and takes a hold of his wrist. And then on an impulse, he lets his fingers migrate under Draco’s shirt cuff. His fingertips brush over uneven skin, raised scar tissue, and Harry’s stomach drops. He tightens his grip involuntarily, fingers digging into the mark on Malfoy’s arm.

He was right.

It takes him a moment before he notices Malfoy is crying.

-

A few months after that, Harry watches paralyzed and hidden under the invisibility cloak when Dumbledore offers to hide Draco from Voldemort, and there is not any part of him that doesn’t wish for Malfoy to accept.

But he doesn’t. And Dumbledore dies. And the world accelerates then, the war gathers momentum around them, and Harry and Draco are both swept up in it. When they see each other again the lines are clearly drawn and they’re back to playing the parts they were supposed to.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thanks to Morphine for beta'ing.
> 
> I've also posted this story on [tumblr](https://maaske-egnet.tumblr.com/post/164632022339/im-all-for-interpreting-draco-and-harrys), so if you liked it, reblogs are greatly appreciated.


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